


day 22: windows and doors (all closed off)

by halfwheeze



Series: thirty ways to wreck a train [22]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 14:23:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14166801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: in which no one really knows how to handle breaking up.





	day 22: windows and doors (all closed off)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is day twenty-two of a 30-day series I'm trying out! I can't say that I'll be fantastic at it, but I'm gonna try!
> 
> day twenty-two is angst! hope you enjoy!

He’s not fine. If he can’t admit that in the finest confines of his own mind, he’s more fucked than he ever allows himself to be, and he can’t do that. As much as he pretends to be okay outside of his own apartment, as much as he keeps a smile on his face, as much as he still cracks jokes and laughs and socializes, he’s not fine. There are sunglasses on the mantle that are too wide for the range of his temples, there are shoes on the rug that are too big for his feets, there’s a toothbrush that doesn’t belong to him in the cup. Ryan doesn’t know when all of Shane’s things cropped up, when he stopped living in an apartment all his own, but he knows he can’t throw any of it out. He can’t stand to be alone in the space he picked out for himself, and somehow that’s just sadder than if Shane had been living with him before they broke up. Then, at least, he would have taken all his shit. 

Breaking up wasn’t even a big fight, nothing like what Ryan had been expecting of their explosive relationship. Where he was expecting nuclear reaction, he got casual disregard of one another’s feelings, he got knowing something was wrong months in advance, he got Shane’s soft smile with no gentleness behind his eyes. There were no big fights. It was like their whole relationship dissolved in a glass of water, like he didn’t even get the dignity of slammed doors and nights on the couch. He’s still kicking for a fight that won’t come, because Shane just  _ doesn’t fucking care.  _ And, I mean, who can blame him? Ryan’s the one who cares too much, Ryan’s the one who gets too invested all at once, Ryan’s the one who tears himself apart without anyone’s help at all. Who would stay with that? Ryan wants to rip and fight and blame, but he knows it’s his own fault. 

He breaks out a beer and texts Zack, spitballing ideas for the next season of Buzzfeed Unsolved: Sports rather than turning on the television. If he sees anything dumb on screen, he’ll turn to tell Shane about it, and he can’t do it to himself all over again. His TV stays off more often than it’s on. 

A couple blocks west, Shane is going through much of the same nightly routine, though with a few subtractions and additions. Instead of a beer, he’s having a TV dinner, because none of his friends will let him drink himself into a coma; there’s an alcohol sweep in his apartment once a week, and at this point, it’s just easier not to buy anything. He’s grateful that people care about him, but he craves the numbness, craves being able to sit in his apartment and not think about anything, and he cries so often now. He used to cry at basically nothing, not even the Notebook could get his tear ducts going, but he feels like he’ll never run dry. He’s a fucking well, and he wants so badly to be a desert again, he wants to feel nothing and do nothing and be nothing. He doesn’t want to die, but it’s a close call sometimes. He just wants to stop hurting. He texts his brother a lot. 

Ryan still sits next to him at work, grinning at coworkers and laughing at their jokes and being himself, Ryan is moving on from Shane so well and Shane can’t fucking take it. He has his head between his knees in the work bathroom at least three times a week, thinking about the crow’s feet beside Ryan’s laughing eyes, the booming and lovely sound of it. An anxiety attack crawls up his throat all the time when Ryan feels anxious, because he knows when Ryan is anxious, because he has loved Ryan and he loves Ryan and he  _ knows  _ Ryan. Except, now that they’re broken up and they aren’t best friends anymore and they aren’t  _ anything  _ anymore, Shane can’t tell him that everything is going to be okay, Shane can’t reassure, can’t whisper into his hair, can’t hold him close and teach him hope all over again. He wants to reach out but he can’t, and that burns more than anything else. 

It gets to be midnight and he wants to text Ryan, he wants to ask him to come over because he can’t sleep alone anymore, because his space without Ryan is devoid of life, because he doesn’t know why they don’t sleep in the same bed anymore. He doesn’t know why Ryan decided they were done, he doesn’t know what he  _ did,  _ but he would love to fix it, he would love to know. He loves Ryan. He’s got his phone out and he’s sad and stupid and he loves Ryan and he loves Ryan and he loves Ryan. 

“I miss you,” he sends, whispering it aloud, and regrets it immediately. He can’t take it back, and he can’t say he didn’t mean it because he did and it hurts, how much he meant it, how much he misses Ryan with all of himself, because he misses Ryan because he loves Ryan because Ryan is Ryan and that  _ destroys  _ him. 

“Come over,” Ryan sends back, almost a minute after, and Shane startles. 

_ Is he sure Is he sure Is he sure Does it matter You should go You love him you love him you love him what if he needs you _

“I’ll be there in ten,” Shane replies instead of questioning, because he’ll always come for Ryan. He misses Ryan. Getting out of bed is a blur and he doesn’t bother switching out of his sweatpants and t-shirt, just slamming on shoes and getting into the car what feels like immediately thereafter. He doesn’t remember driving to Ryan’s at all. Ryan is holding open the apartment door when he gets there; Shane walks unabashedly into his arms, nuzzling into Ryan’s neck. He’s relieved when Ryan lets him, holds him closer, lets him into the apartment and is even more relieved when they just stay in the entryway, holding each other too close for words. They don’t talk about it before going to bed. Shane isn’t one hundred percent sure that they ever will. 

“Are we getting back together?” Ryan asks, voice small, when they’re plastered to each other’s bodies in Ryan’s bed. So, they are talking about it. If Ryan asked… he’s willing for the answer to be yes, right? Shane tries to hold a candle to hope, but he can’t, pessimism casting a dark shadow on him. 

“I miss you, Ry. I want to,” Shane says into Ryan’s hair. “We’ll figure it out in the morning maybe?” he asks, pulling Ryan impossibly closer. 

“Yeah,” Ryan says, thin, “in the morning.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a prompt @halfwheeze on tumblr, and I'll get to it when I can!


End file.
